Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
I break away to let her catch her breath, a groan rumbling in my throat. My cock screams to be inside her. “Phoebe,” I say slowly, sensually. “My favorite word. My Phoebe.”
Her eyes well with a surge of emotion. “Rocky,” she rasps out, her voice sultry.
“Phoebe,” I whisper against her lips, slipping a condom along my length.
“Rocky.” Her voice is an ache, on the precipice of a moan. She spreads her legs wider open.
I reach between them to feel her cunt, wetness against my fingers. “Phoebe.” I make dirty love to her name, dragging my slick finger down her leg.
She’s arching her hips into my cock. “Rocky,” she moans.
Fuck. “Phoebe.” Kneeling between her legs, I bring my finger to her mouth. The same one that was inside her. Her breath is ragged as she closes her lips around me.
She can’t say it, but her eyes scream my name. Rocky.
I lower to press my lips against her ear. “Phoebe.” I seize her hip and whisper, “You want to know how deep I’m going to fuck you? It’s going to be worse than our wedding night. You won’t be able to walk for three fucking weeks straight.” I remove my finger from her mouth so she can speak.
She squirms beneath me. “Rocky.” It’s a heady, drunk-in-love Rocky. I capture her wrists and pull her hands above her head.
“Phoebe.” Our eyes cling.
With one hand, I hold her wrists together, and with my other, I lift her pelvis to align with me. My cock sinks inside her tight warmth, and I watch her face break into pleasure. Fuck yes.
“Oh my God,” she cries and shakes beneath me. I haven’t even moved yet, but I’m buried deep. Almost all of me inside her.
I flex forward, and her pussy clenches around me. Fucking Christ. I stare into her and start thrusting at a rhythmic, hard pace. It jerks her body upward—and each time, her breath catches. The noise is lighting a fire in my nerve endings.
“Phoebe,” I growl into her ear while I pound her. “You always wished I’d fuck you on this ugly ruffled bedding in front of those dolls. Admit it, as soon as you saw this haunted-looking room, you’ve been dreaming of me fucking you here. That I’d hold you down and take you long and hard. You imagined this.” I slam harder. “Fucking. Here.” Faster. “Huh, how long did you want my cock this deep inside you?”
Words catch in her throat.
I slam.
“Uhhh-uh…ahhh, fuck.” Her pussy pulses and tightens.
Jesus. I grit through the desire to shoot a load inside her. A groan is knotted up in my lungs. She’s trying to glare, but it’s smothered in pleasure as I thrust and thrust and thrust and fuck. As she jerks up. As our hot breaths and sweat meld. I can’t even kiss her without stealing necessary oxygen. She’s barely breathing.
“Rocky,” she moans, her wrists pulling against my grip.
“You’re not going anywhere until I’ve come inside you, little nightmare.” The animalistic fucking need to fill Phoebe with my seed consumes half my brain. Penetrate. Fuck. Fill. Her.
No one else can have her.
No one.
She stretches her legs, giving herself to me.
As I fuck harder, our eyes stay latched, and I hold her face with one protective, forceful hand. The intimacy detonates everything I’ve ever known about sex. I see nothing but her. I feel nothing but her. I love nothing but her.
When she comes, her tightness wraps so hard around me, but it’s her eyes rolling back and her limbs spasming that destroy me. “Fuck,” I grit out, releasing deep, deep in Phoebe.
I wish I wasn’t wearing a condom.
Not to get her pregnant—but I want my cum to seep out of her. I want to leave some of me inside Phoebe.
Once she comes off the peak and catches her breath, I pull out and toss the used condom in the wastebasket on the floor. Her half-lidded eyes fight to stay open. She’s as exhausted as someone like Phebs can be.
“Signs of life?” I ask, leaning over her and combing sweaty hair off her forehead.
“Fuck you,” she murmurs, her lips lifting.
I smile back. “Fuck me for fucking you so good, you mean?”
“Maybe.” Her eyes flash with slight worry. “You’re not going, are you?”
“No,” I breathe. “Have I ever really left you?”
Phoebe shakes her head, then sits up to check on the status of the door. Chair still intact and propped beneath the knob. The reminder that it exists jolts her, and she wrangles the corset off her chest.
“He’s not coming in here,” I assure her.
She climbs off the bed, completely nude. Then unzips her suitcase, picking out a T-shirt and sweats. “You can’t be that certain, Rocky.”
“I put an Ambien in his whiskey.”
She freezes, then twists her head back to me. “No.” She’s grinning. Drugging someone shouldn’t delight us so damn much, but we’re not out here delivering fruit baskets to people.